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 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
Uncomfible they are though, shockin',
And so is a bull-dog, takin' and lockin',
His jaw like a vice. And special gels—
They can't be thinkin' of nothin' else
Night or day, the whole of the world
Is nothin' but her, and the head goes whirl,
And the heart like a burnin' fiery furnace—
That's the chaps that is in earnest,
And no matter the why and no matter the fur
It's her and her and her and her—
Her they must have—they must, they must,
And all the rest is only dust
And dirt. And the same for everything—
An oar, a pick—but faymales! by jing!
Faymales! aw, bless ye! simply crazy—
That's it—nor they can't nor they won't take it aisy.
And so is a bull-dog, takin' and lockin',
His jaw like a vice. And special gels—
They can't be thinkin' of nothin' else
Night or day, the whole of the world
Is nothin' but her, and the head goes whirl,
And the heart like a burnin' fiery furnace—
That's the chaps that is in earnest,
And no matter the why and no matter the fur
It's her and her and her and her—
Her they must have—they must, they must,
And all the rest is only dust
And dirt. And the same for everything—
An oar, a pick—but faymales! by jing!
Faymales! aw, bless ye! simply crazy—
That's it—nor they can't nor they won't take it aisy.
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |